


Crawl home to her

by anddirtyrain



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fix It Fic, but we missed the ending, dont worry I got it down, everything that happened in the show still happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-04
Updated: 2016-03-04
Packaged: 2018-05-24 16:12:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6159301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anddirtyrain/pseuds/anddirtyrain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dead people don't bleed, and Lexa was bleeding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> tittle from work song by Hozier bc after this episode that song fits Clexa even more.  
> please join me in the land of denial.

 

It was more jarring that crashing on earth.

An hour ago, she had Lexa in her arms. An hour ago she had her wetness on her fingers and her breathy sighs on her ear and her warmth enveloping her.

Half an hour ago she’d realized that the skin covered with ink was just as smooth as the one unmarred by the markings, and she’d taken pleasure in trailing her fingertips over each design.

Minutes ago she was happy. They were happy.

It’s jarring to match the memories with the body in front of her, cold and unforgiving. It’s confusing enough that they are memories at all, and that that’s all they’ll be now, no longer a promise but a goodbye they didn’t know they were giving. She should have kissed her harder. She should have said _Ai hod you in_.

“ _What are you doing_?!”

She wants to pull Titus away from Lexa when he turns her body. It’s childish and stupid and naive but the deepest part of Clarke wants him to let Lexa rest. Leave her alone. Just...let her rest. Don’t disturb her.

She wants to vomit when Titus cuts into Lexa’s neck. She’d grasped the nape of her neck minutes ago, to keep her still for their last kiss because Lexa liked to move her head too much. She’d touched her there and now the scalpel cut her skin open, her strange dark blood pouring out.

She’s going to vomit.

“What’s that?”

She watches the thing he pulls out of Lexa’s neck. Her brain recognizes it as technology of some sort, but she can’t focus on it, on anything. Her fingers itch to turn Lexa on her back because how could she breath properly that way? And it hits her again, that she’s gone.

She can’t do anything but stare at the blood on the sheets when Titus carries Lexa’s body away. She keeps her eyes trained on the black stains as if they could give her some sort of answer as to what just happened, the last few minutes of her life one nightmare she can’t wake up from.

Murphy shakes her out of it, the noise of his shoulder rhythmically pounding the door as if he fights for their way out, but she can’t let it go. The blood.

The blood that steadily pumped out while Titus cut into her neck. While he removed that thing. The stain beneath her head on the pillow.

Dead people don’t bleed.

“Let me out! Ai laik Wanheda en yu na se ai ouder!” She slams her hand so hard on the wood it rattles. Her hand throbs. “Open the door! Ai laik-”

“Clarke, I doubt they’ll be letting us out because you ask-”

The door opens and she almost falls through.

“Nevermind.” She ignores Murphy behind her, her mind set on one goal, and that’s finding Lexa. Because she’s still here, she has to be, spirit or technology be damned. Clarke’s not giving up on her.

The dead don’t bleed. You need a heartbeat for that.

She crashes into Lexa’s throne room to find Titus setting her down on a table, a few of her men around and she pushes herself through their bodies, her elbows digging into leather.

“Clarke, Leksa is-”

“Get out of my way,” she pushes Titus away, and at once she presses her mout to Lexas, breathing air into her lungs.

“You can not disrespect the body of the past commander,” Titus says behind her. “She deserves-”

“She’s not dead,” Clarke whispers, breathing her into her body again before pushing her fists against her chest and pushing like her mother taught her when she was young. Thirty compressions. She counts in her head, _one, two, three_ …

Blood steadily flows from the wound in her stomach and she knows this will be useless if she can’t stop it.

“Get me something to stop the bleeding.”

“The commander is-”

“Do as I say!” she screams, and she’s about to ask one of the others in trigedasleng when Titus passes her a piece of fabric, but that won’t be enough.

“I need a sterile blade and needle and thread and bring Aden!”

“Aden?”

“His blood,” she gasps. _Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen_ … “Lexa needs his blood.”

“The nightbloods-”

“If you don’t do as I say,” Clarke clenches her teeth. “I swear I’ll tell everyone you did this, and if they don’t kill you I’ll do it myself,” she tells him under her breath.

 _Twenty- three, twenty-four, twenty-five_... Clarke’s eyes burn from her tears and sweat and it feels futile, but this is all she has.

The pain spreading through her chest feels as though she was shot along with Lexa. She can hear the murmur of the men behind her with every drop of dark blood that hits the ground. It is precious to them, and to Clarke as well, but for such different reasons. She can't tell if Lexa's chest is warm or if it's her own hands and hope that make her think so, but she doesn't stop. This can't be how it ends. _Damn it!_ She didn't forgive Lexa for this, she didn't fall in love with Lexa for this! This...this can't be how it ends. Her tears fall on Lexa's neck, mixing with her blood and Clarke thinks maybe she _is_ insane, she's felt something like it before. Finn's bright red blood covered her hands and she felt her world crashing down, trapping her under the rubble. Now she feels as though her world is ending, but she's not sure she can crawl out of the mess again. _Twenty-nine, thirty..._

She closes Lexa’s nose and reaches up to breath air into her lungs again but the _faintest thing._..The smallest gust of warm breath leaves her lips and Clarke’s heart stutters.

“She’s breathing!”

“That isn’t possible,” Titus says.

“She’s alive,” she says, and her hand press back against the wound, the flow of blood now decreasing and Clarke isn’t sure if it’s coagulation or not but she’s breathing, she’s _alive_. The dissonant, senseless sound in her ears is her own desperate laughter.

“She’s no longer Heda,” someone says. “The Commander’s spirit isn’t in her anymore-”

“She’s alive!” Clarke screams, and someone pushes the blade she asked for in her hands. “ _Alive_ ,” she says, when the frightened blond boy Lexa is so fond of is pushed beside her, arm at the ready and awaiting for her orders. “You’re going to live,” she tells Lexa, pale cheeks and cold fingers but still beating heart. She’ll keep it that way.

“You’re a fighter. You're so strong." She brushes Lexa's hair away from her cold, clammy face; tenderness constricting her chest so she can hardly breathe. "That's why you're _you_. That’s why _I_ love you. And you’re going to live.”


	2. Chapter 2

Clarke sends Octavia back to Arkadia despite her protests, with the promise of riding there the minute Lexa wakes up. She doesn’t know when that will be.

Aden is quiet.

He opens and closes his fist the way Clarke tells him to, to keep the blood flowing down the tube from his arm to Lexa’s. Clarke had no idea if the transfusion would work. If they had different blood types, even, but she had to gamble and it seems to have paid off.

“Does this mean she will still be Heda?” the boy asks, and Clarke doesn’t have an answer. She doesn’t know what it all meant, the chip on the nape of Lexa’s neck, the conclave…none of it makes sense to her. The only truth she needs is that Lexa is breathing on her own and her cheeks are less pale, even if she hasn’t woken up.

“I don’t know,” Clarke tells him. “Are you getting dizzy?” She asks Aden, but the boy shakes his head and stoically stares straight ahead. The movement reminds her so much of Lexa her chest aches with the knowledge that she almost lost her for good. That she might still lose her. “If you are, you need to tell me.”

“I want to help Heda,” Aden says, and Clarke nods.

“I think you’ve helped enough. Your blood just saved her life.”

She lets Aden go when the boy is a little too pale, when she’s probably taken more blood than she should have but he’s young and healthy. It won’t take very long for his body to replenish itself. Lexa, on the other hand, needs all the help she can get.

Clarke had her moved back to her bedroom. Laid down on the furs that still smelled of them, reminding Clarke how little time had passed since they were lying there, intertwined and happy.

She’s so still that Clakre can’t help but lay down a gentle hand on her stomach, just to make sure she’s breathing. When she’s satisfied that her chest is moving up and down she fetches some water from a pitcher and a piece of cloth, and sits next to Lexa’s head.

Her cheek is stained with dried black blood. Clarke wets the cloth and gently runs it down Lexa’s cheek and chin. She lets her thumb brush over Lexa’s lower lip gently, the memory of what she thought would be their last kiss still fresh in her mind. It was wrong. She didn’t move, didn’t breathe. It wasn't Lexa.

Lexa kissed wildly, Clarke had come to find out.

Their first kiss, back in the tent…before Mount Weather and everything that happened. It was tentative, careful. It was Lexa giving her an out every step of the way, one she took.

But today…Lexa didn’t have such reservations. As if the fact that Clarke had kissed her first untied some unseen bounds and let her claim her how she wanted to. Lexa liked to move until it was almost hard to follow, she kissed fast but not hard, and Clarke could feel on the eagerness of her kisses how young she was, how unexperienced. Clarke liked to take her time, she had a method, she knew how to use her tongue and her lips. And Lexa…she didn’t. But she gave Clarke everything.

She promised herself right then that the second the other girl woke up she’d give her everything, too. She’d tell her what she hadn’t before. She would find a way for there to be peace between their people, so they could find a way for them.

“What are you doing here?” She asks, feeling Titus’ presence behind her, on the far side of the room. She looks at him out of the corner of her eyes, unwilling to take her eyes off of Lexa even for a second.

“I debate what to do, Clarke. This has never happened before.” His voice sounds conflicted. Clarke feels nothing but bone-deep exhaustion, can’t even conjure up how much she hates him for doing this to Lexa. “I do not know if I should put the Commander’s spirit back inside Heda. There has never been a Conclave with the last Heda alive but the spirit outside of her. I do not know how to proceed.”

“What is that?” Clarke asks, wondering if the reason Lexa hasn’t woken up yet is due to more than just her injuries. “It’s some sort of technology, isn’t it?”

“It is the Commander’s spirit, passed down from the first Commander of the Blood.”

“Is…Is Lexa supposed to be in there?” Clarke asks, looking at Titus’ robes where she knows he hides the small metal box.

“Her spirit is.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” She stands up from the bed. “Undo whatever the hell it is you did to her.”

“How will I know if she’ll wake up again?”

“You can’t. Buy you’ll do it anyway.”

She stands aside while Titus takes the box out. His hands tremble while he does it, the metal container falling to the bed with a soft thud as he holds the mechanical piece between his fingers. He turns Lexa’s head to the side, and Clarke feels her fingers twitch with how much she wants to touch her and make sure she’s okay.

Titus procures a blade and reopens the wound he made hours prior, still matted with blood. He puts the chip against it but - nothing happens.

“It’s not working. When the spirit chose her the first time it happened right away.” Titus said, and Clarke’s stomach plummets. “It is not working,” he repeats.

“Then make it work,” she says, her hand on the gun hanging from her belt. She won’t let the weapon out of her sight.

Titus sighs, and as if it pains him, uses the blade to lose some sort of cable from the device in his hand. He further opens Lexa’s wound, and the doctor in Clarke wants to take a step forward, while the woman in her, the one who’s in love, wants to hide.

Titus pushes the chip until she’s pretty sure he’s making more damage than he should and then-it happens. The device comes to life and seemingly blends itself with Lexa’s spine, as though simply more of its sinews and veins. She rushes to her side and presses a piece of cloth against the wound, laying Lexa’s head back down in the pillow.

It could be her imagination, but she can almost sense a change in her. Like something living has filled her body. She feels in Lexa’s presence again, not merely keeping watch over a body and waitinf for it to wake up. She knows now that she will.

Clarke doesn’t sleep that night. She stays vigilant by Lexa’s side, at first on a chair, and then laying on the bed next to her. She changes her bandages with gentle fingers, and changes her into more comfortable clothes.

The first tendrils of sunlight are crawling through the window when she feels something move next to her. Clarke scrunches her nose, and then realizes that she must have fallen asleep. She sits up in bed fast, her vision swimming before she zones in on the girl next to her. For a moment she thinks there’s no change, but the she notices the way her fingers clutch the sheets.

“Lexa?” Clarke covers one of her hands with her own. “Can you hear me?”

Lexas eyes move beneath her eyelids, and Clarke’s heart lives in her throat. It was one thing to have hope, but the proof that Lexa would be all right…Tears flood her eyes.

“Lexa… _hey_ …” She runs her thumb over her cheek gently, trying to coax her awake. “Lexa.”

Her eyes snap open with frightening speed, the bright green looking around without a single sign of recognition. A sob escapes Clarke, unbidden. She’s awake.

“Lexa?”

Her eyes drift lazily toward her face.

“…Clarke…” Lexa’s voice is a ragged whisper.

“I’m right here,” Clarke says. “I’m here, and you’re going to be okay, you hear me? You’re okay.” She lets her hand rest on Lexa’s hip, the other on her arm. She can’t help but touch her.

“I had a nightmare,” Lexa says simply, and Clarke smiles through her tears.

“Me too,” Clarke tells her. ”But it’s over now.”


End file.
